(Well, sorry for the title, I just tried to lure in some of you people obsessed with the tbleauge viking woman body It is a s28a body, actually. Hope you still enjoy. )
For a long time, the North was spared the plague of the undead, which for decades had advanced unstoppably into the rest of the world, devouring one empire after another. The stories had been heard from mercenaries who had returned, but for most people in the North it remained a distant war, if the stories were believed at all. The sea, the islands, the kraken, nothing could get past them. And even after decades, only a fraction of the Northerners should ever encounter an undead.
For Joqonukk's generation, however, it was different.
Her mother was eight months pregnant when she gave birth to Joqonukk, healthy and strong. It was a good omen for a firstborn, because eight is the sacred number of the Northern peoples, like the eight arms of the Skykraken Yappateru and the eight green trails that lead, protected from the freezing cold, to the Kraken's temple at the top of the world.
Here, at the center of the North Pole, contrary to the cosmic laws, time passes much faster than in the rest of the world. Sometimes a day goes by twice as fast, sometimes a week, a whole month or even a year goes by on a day. Every devote follower of Yappateru should make a pilgrimage to the temple once in his life and leave it as someone else.
But when Joquonukk was born, the temple had long since ceased to be in the hands of the North.
The Empires in the South of the world were desperate in their fight against the overpowering undead, so the Southern leaders hoped for a decisive advantage through access to this sacred place at the North Pole. Here, a year of research could be achieved in one day, for new weapons, tactics, machines, they thought. While the northern peoples wasted all this potential on pagan rituals, as they found. But despite all negotiations, declarations and requests, the peoples of the north were not ready to give up their largest sanctuary for such secular purposes or to have it desecrated by strangers.
A protracted and costly invasion along the green trails began. Despite fierce resistance from the Northerners, they were unable to hold the temple. Too few, too poorly equipped, not as tightly organized as the huge, overpowering military apparatus of allied empires. Contrary to many expectations, in the end the common sense of the victorious and the vanquished equally triumphed: Instead of leading a fight to a bitter end, the Krakenpriests were able to unite the Northerners in the name of Yappateru and convince them that the real fight lies in the deep South, that no longer a living human will kill another of it's kind.
Today the temple grounds are a gathering place for the best scholars from all over the world, a place of research and hope. And a fortress. Many locals do not believe in the promise that the strangers will voluntarily leave after defeating the mysterious undead, if ever. And Joqonukk and most of her people are denied access. Centuries-old rituals, culture and religion, no longer practicable in one fell swoop. With the fall of the temple, the End Times had begun in the North as well. A time, it was written, of trials in which the Skykraken Yappateru will return to the world - to devour them all, to feed upon the unworthy and to carry the worthy into the new world.
Now, like many other Northerners, Joqonukk is forced to fight alongsie old enemies in a hopeless war against the undead armies.
In the South, these warriors have many names and a special reputation. Especially the young ones who were born after the loss of the temple and now have to prove themselves without a pilgrimage to the North Pole. Wild, brave and bold, relentless and fierce, spiritual, proud, loud and hard-drinking, insane, fearless in the face of death, a fine line between incredible heroism and boundless stupidity. For fear of rebellion, they are only allowed to go into the field in small flocks, but when you hear them drumming and singing, they sound like a whole army. After decades of fighting by the side of their conquerors, winning together and dying together, they have earned the respect they have deserved for so long - many who fought by their side do not consider any magical temple to be the true treasure of the North, but the zeal of these warriors.
For a long time, the North was spared the plague of the undead, which for decades had advanced unstoppably into the rest of the world, devouring one empire after another. The stories had been heard from mercenaries who had returned, but for most people in the North it remained a distant war, if the stories were believed at all. The sea, the islands, the kraken, nothing could get past them. And even after decades, only a fraction of the Northerners should ever encounter an undead.
For Joqonukk's generation, however, it was different.
Her mother was eight months pregnant when she gave birth to Joqonukk, healthy and strong. It was a good omen for a firstborn, because eight is the sacred number of the Northern peoples, like the eight arms of the Skykraken Yappateru and the eight green trails that lead, protected from the freezing cold, to the Kraken's temple at the top of the world.
Here, at the center of the North Pole, contrary to the cosmic laws, time passes much faster than in the rest of the world. Sometimes a day goes by twice as fast, sometimes a week, a whole month or even a year goes by on a day. Every devote follower of Yappateru should make a pilgrimage to the temple once in his life and leave it as someone else.
But when Joquonukk was born, the temple had long since ceased to be in the hands of the North.
The Empires in the South of the world were desperate in their fight against the overpowering undead, so the Southern leaders hoped for a decisive advantage through access to this sacred place at the North Pole. Here, a year of research could be achieved in one day, for new weapons, tactics, machines, they thought. While the northern peoples wasted all this potential on pagan rituals, as they found. But despite all negotiations, declarations and requests, the peoples of the north were not ready to give up their largest sanctuary for such secular purposes or to have it desecrated by strangers.
A protracted and costly invasion along the green trails began. Despite fierce resistance from the Northerners, they were unable to hold the temple. Too few, too poorly equipped, not as tightly organized as the huge, overpowering military apparatus of allied empires. Contrary to many expectations, in the end the common sense of the victorious and the vanquished equally triumphed: Instead of leading a fight to a bitter end, the Krakenpriests were able to unite the Northerners in the name of Yappateru and convince them that the real fight lies in the deep South, that no longer a living human will kill another of it's kind.
Today the temple grounds are a gathering place for the best scholars from all over the world, a place of research and hope. And a fortress. Many locals do not believe in the promise that the strangers will voluntarily leave after defeating the mysterious undead, if ever. And Joqonukk and most of her people are denied access. Centuries-old rituals, culture and religion, no longer practicable in one fell swoop. With the fall of the temple, the End Times had begun in the North as well. A time, it was written, of trials in which the Skykraken Yappateru will return to the world - to devour them all, to feed upon the unworthy and to carry the worthy into the new world.
Now, like many other Northerners, Joqonukk is forced to fight alongsie old enemies in a hopeless war against the undead armies.
In the South, these warriors have many names and a special reputation. Especially the young ones who were born after the loss of the temple and now have to prove themselves without a pilgrimage to the North Pole. Wild, brave and bold, relentless and fierce, spiritual, proud, loud and hard-drinking, insane, fearless in the face of death, a fine line between incredible heroism and boundless stupidity. For fear of rebellion, they are only allowed to go into the field in small flocks, but when you hear them drumming and singing, they sound like a whole army. After decades of fighting by the side of their conquerors, winning together and dying together, they have earned the respect they have deserved for so long - many who fought by their side do not consider any magical temple to be the true treasure of the North, but the zeal of these warriors.